


A Few More Rescues Deleted Scene

by poetic_nonsense



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Deleted Scenes, I mean not technically but close enough, Other, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Regency, Vignette, ace friendly, deleted scene from swashbuckler chapter of A Few More Rescues, some nice extra wall push content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_nonsense/pseuds/poetic_nonsense
Summary: “Speaking of which,” Aziraphale began carefully.  “You did mention lunch, and -- it’s not that I’m questioning your excellent taste, it’s just -- I can’t help wondering --”“Where the Hell are we?!”  Crowley interrupted, craning their neck in slightly unnatural ways to take in their surroundings.-A bit that didn't quite make it intothe Regency swashbuckler chapter of A Few More Rescues.  Featuring French food and a wall push.  :)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 164





	A Few More Rescues Deleted Scene

**Author's Note:**

> I've been AGOG at the response to [A Few More Rescues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21695302/chapters/51745309). You nerds really are out here waiting to swoon with Aziraphale and think about Crowley having a blast with every opportunity to act the roguish hero, aren't you? (I adore every single one of you.) Here's a bit I wrote while trying to work out how to end the swashbuckler chapter -- it made my beta reader, [summerofspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock), swoon, so here you lovely people go! Bonus content!

“Speaking of which,” Aziraphale began carefully. “You did mention lunch, and -- it’s not that I’m questioning your excellent taste, it’s just -- I can’t help wondering --”

“Where the Hell are we?!” Crowley interrupted, craning their neck in slightly unnatural ways to take in their surroundings.

“Yes, quite.” The broad avenues and stone facades of Soho had given way to narrow, twisting streets and wooden tenement buildings, which, while not an inherently bad place to be, was not the sort of place one expected to find a restaurant, and was also indistinguishable from dozens of other neighborhoods throughout London.

Aziraphale watched Crowley twist around to see where they’d come from, mouth open in a grimace of confusion, before enlightenment visibly snuck into Crowley’s visage.

“Ohh, must have missed that turn -- _ten minutes ago_ \--” Crowley mumbled, before breaking off into an aggravated noise. “All right, sod this -- c’mere, angel --”

\-- and they pulled Aziraphale sharply off into a dark, narrow alley, all but invisible from the street, unless you were looking for it. Aziraphale stumbled in the sudden dark, pulled off-balance, and the next thing he knew Crowley’s strong hands were hauling him up by the arms and he was being tugged -- oh -- flush against Crowley, pushed between them and a wall.

Aziraphale was suddenly, overwhelmingly thankful for the dark; his face was positively on fire, and he clamped his mouth shut lest any unintentional and very probably damning noises should escape. His mind raced uncontrollably through passages of almost every less-than-proper romance novel he’d ever read, only to shudder to a complete, screeching blank when he felt the brush of Crowley’s breath against his cheek.

“Hang on -- I haven’t done this so _precisely_ in a while --” Crowley was muttering less than half a foot from his face, and Aziraphale was going to simply _discorporate_ at any moment now --

\-- and then there was a snap and Aziraphale felt his atoms twist in that unpleasant way they did when you teleported without bracing yourself --

\-- and they were standing in a different alleyway, this one lighter, and less cramped, and smelling significantly less of cat droppings.

Ah.

Of course, yes. Right.

The warm press of Crowley’s front against his own was retreating, and as he was catching his breath he watched Crowley brush themself off with a brisk, “Right, yeah, think I managed that. We should be right across the -- you all right, angel?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Yes -- yes, quite all right, just -- forgot to plant my feet, that’s all.” He stepped away from the wall and used a quick miracle to right his clothes as he took Crowley’s proffered arm once more, ignoring Crowley’s derisive snort.

“Where are we, exactly?” he asked, blinking as they stepped back out into the sunny street.

“Queen Anne Street.” Crowley steered him across the road, to the steps of a charming little red-painted establishment, and paused too-casually to let Aziraphale inspect the sign. “Heard they had tricandilles here.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped in genuine delight. “Gascon fare! Oh, there’s been so little in London since that Napoleon fellow made such a fuss. Really, Crowley, this is delightful, you must come have caneles with me.”

Crowley grinned. “Thought I was supposed to be doing the tempting around here.”

Aziraphale swatted at their arm, barely containing a roll of the eyes. “It’s hardly tempting. You _like_ caneles."

Crowley hummed and shifted their weight, leaning impossibly closer into Aziraphale. “Suppose I might. Lead the way, then, angel. Two hours, max, then we’re on our way to the City of Music. I bet they’ve got a scandalous new dance over there, they always do.”

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter of A Few More Rescues gets posted tomorrow, and it's got Crowley as a femme fatale! Come and read if that's your thing! <3


End file.
